


School Nemeses 8

by magog_83



Series: School Nemeses [8]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-30
Updated: 2011-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magog_83/pseuds/magog_83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur are archenemies.  Optimistic young teacher Miss Slater thinks she can do something about that. Modern school!au. Break time!</p>
            </blockquote>





	School Nemeses 8

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Vensre for the read through!

Normally Miss Slater hated break duty. None of the teachers were exactly enthusiastic about giving up their free time to stand around on the playing fields, and Miss Slater had found that as one of the newest and youngest members of the teaching staff, she was co-opted into doing it more often than not. But on this particular Monday lunchtime she was more than happy to stand on the edges of the field, nursing a cup of tea and enjoying the mellow autumn sunshine. It was warm for October and from where she stood she could see clear across the school grounds to the copse of trees by the lane – all reds and oranges now, curled and brittle leaves littering the surrounding grass.

It was, right at that moment, peaceful. But that soon changed as the students began to emerge from the main school – heading for their favoured spots, voices loud in the still air. Miss Slater blew on her tea and smiled at a few of her Year Sevens as they ran past, before surveying the field. There were, she noted, rather a depressing number of students spreading out textbooks on the grass in a last ditch attempt to complete their homework, and doubtless more than a few essays and other exercises would be handed in after lunch, adorned with grass stains. Others were settling down, in twos and threes for the most part, to chat and she spotted phones emerging along with books and magazines. Then there was the usual group of older boys, led as ever by Arthur Pendragon, football in hand, as they made for the empty stretch of grass by the hedge for a kick-about. They were here most lunchtimes, usually with their large coterie of female fans (as she thought of them), unless forced inside by the rain. Miss Slater perched on the wall behind her and watched the girls spread their coats on the grass to sit.

She had discovered in her first term that this hour was one of the few times in the school day that teachers were not required to brace themselves for trouble – due to Merlin rarely spending his break times on the field. When she had asked why not, she had been told there had been an ‘accident’ in Year Nine involving Arthur’s football and Merlin’s face which had escalated to such an extent that they had both been banned from spending their breaks anywhere near each other for the rest of the term.

By the time the ban was lifted it seemed Merlin had found somewhere better to spend his time – in the garden outside the art and technology rooms with his own, smaller group of friends – and so the temporary respite had, mostly, continued, heartily encouraged by the staff. As Mr Newman himself had pointed out, this temporary separation reduced their ‘windows of opportunity’ to before Tutor, after Tutor, any and all lessons they had together (deliberately few), Games, the dining hall, the corridors, the staircases, the lockers and after school.

As she watched, sipping her already luke-warm tea, Arthur tossed the football high in the air, catching it on his knee and keeping it off the ground as long as possible to a round of applause from his audience. One of his friends - Leon was it? - called over to him, sounding impatient, and Arthur grinned and let the ball drop, dribbling it across the grass and beginning the game in earnest. His team mates quickly discarded blazers and jumpers, racing up and down the grass, yelling encouragement to their own side and the occasional insult to the opposing team – led by Liam Foster, a hulking sixteen year old who evidently fancied himself a bit of a rival to Arthur on the football field.

It was a few minutes before Miss Slater realised that this was, apparently, going to be one of those break times - as she spotted Merlin making his way up the pathway that skirted the makeshift football pitch, heading for the field. He had his sketchbook under his arm, tie nearly undone (she should probably say something to him about that) and he was deep in conversation with his friends Will and Gwen – apparently oblivious to the noisy game going on not a hundred yards away.

Not that she could say the same for the footballers. As Merlin came into view two of the boys closest to the path spotted him immediately, looking apprehensively from Merlin to Arthur – who was only metres away and busy gesturing wildly to the goalkeeper – before one of them ran forwards, tackled the ball away from the other team and booted it clear across the pitch. In the time it took Arthur to run nearly the length of the field and retrieve the ball, Merlin, Will and Gwen had left the path and crossed to the oak tree by the tennis courts. It was not far from where she was standing, and a short but safe distance from the pitch, and Merlin promptly dropped his bag on the ground and flopped down on his stomach. Gwen laughed and crouched down next to him, setting his bag the right way up and nudging him in the side until he shifted over enough for her and Will to sit down.

Miss Slater watched them curiously for a moment from her vantage point on the wall. She didn’t know the two of them all that well at all. They were both in the other half of the year and, as far as she knew, had met Merlin through the short-lived art club, set up by an enthusiastic student teacher three years before and later abandoned. Now art was the only class they shared, being a small enough course to accommodate both halves of the year at once. As she watched Merlin flip open his sketchbook and begin drawing, occasionally making a comment or laughing at the conversation going on beside him, she wondered fleetingly what they must make of Merlin and Arthur. To say they were notorious within the school would be something of an understatement, and even though Merlin’s two friends didn’t share classes or games lessons with them, neither could have failed to be aware of their antics, even without knowing Merlin as they did. But perhaps, she thought, they stayed aloof from it all. Certainly they had never been involved in any of the ‘incidents’ as far as she was aware. Neither had Arthur’s team-mates for that matter. It was, she mused, a strangely personal sort of feud. She grimaced ruefully. Either that or no-one else was stupid enough to get in the way.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a burst of cheering from her left and she glanced over to see Arthur performing some kind of elaborate bow to his team-mates, evidently having scored a goal, as the spectators cheered and whistled and the players on the other team scowled. Occupied as she was, she was able to spot the exact moment that Arthur grinned at his admirers, half turned and finally noticed Merlin – who would have appeared completely absorbed in his work had Miss Slater not seen him jerk his head back down at the very last moment. Arthur paused, hardly long enough to notice but a pause all the same, before one of the other boys had the presence of mind to knock the ball from his hands and race off with it, Arthur quickly in pursuit.

Miss Slater let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and relaxed as the game continued – letting her gaze wander round the field again, nodding at Mr Williams the caretaker as she spied him heading for the tool shed, and keeping an eye on some rather boisterous year eights over by the cricket pitch. Gwen was saying something now, rolling her eyes and looking to Will for agreement - whilst Merlin just stared down at his sketchbook, seemingly riveted by whatever it was he was working on, pausing occasionally to twist his chewed pencil round and round in his hands and sneaking small glances upward when he thought Gwen and Will couldn’t see him.

Barely five minutes had passed when the football sailed straight past her. It narrowly missed two year nine girls and bounced twice on the short grass, before rolling unerringly across the corner of Merlin’s sketchbook.

Merlin stopped drawing, paused for a long moment and then looked slowly up – just in time to see Arthur jogging towards him.

“Sorry!” Arthur said flippantly, scooping the football up and smirking. “Didn’t see you there.” Merlin, unsurprisingly, did not look very convinced by this show of contrition.

“I hope I didn’t ruin your…” Arthur was tilting his head and squinting down at the page of Merlin’s sketchbook – which now had a mud stain across the corner. “What the hell is that supposed to be anyway? It looks deformed.”

“That’s because it’s a picture of your face,” Merlin replied sweetly, yanking the sketchbook out of sight.

At this exchange Gwen and Will just exchanged a resigned sort of look, before Will offered Gwen an earphone of his ipod and Gwen accepted gratefully and immediately jammed it in her ear.

Arthur merely raised an eyebrow and tutted patronisingly. “Oh dear, somebody’s bad tempered. Don’t tell me you’ve found the glue already?”

“What gl—” Merlin stopped speaking abruptly and glowered up at Arthur who grinned triumphantly and bounced the football perilously close to Merlin’s head. Merlin jerked back. Miss Slater put her mug down on the wall and walked towards them.

“Everything ok you two?”

Both Merlin and Arthur turned to look at her at the same time, surprised, and Miss Slater took a moment to be impressed that they could spot each other from across the playing fields, but still fail to notice her when she was barely ten feet away. Merlin glanced back at his sketchpad, obviously trying to decide whether it was worth trying to get Arthur in trouble for the mud, but before he could make up his mind, Arthur spoke.

“I thought Merlin might need a better view miss, if he’s trying to draw me.”

Merlin went scarlet. “I am not!”

“Yes you are, you said so yourself,” Arthur tried to reach for the sketchpad but Merlin promptly sat on it, throwing Arthur a very dark look.

“There is no paper _big enough_ to fit your head on it.”

“I think your friends are waiting for you Arthur,” Miss Slater said, pointedly, bringing their attention back to her.

‘Waiting’ was possibly a bit of an understatement as all five of them turned their heads to see both football teams and a row of spectators glaring at them from across the field and looking most disgruntled - at least half at the loss of their star player, and all at the loss of their football. Liam actually had his hands on his hips, before he let go to start gesturing in what Miss Slater could only imagine was some kind of footballer’s code (and judging from his expression, probably not a very complimentary one at that). After a few moments of watching Liam wave his arms about like he was directing traffic, Merlin’s friend Will removed the earphone of his ipod and said, in a curious voice.

“What _exactly_ is he doing?”

Merlin squinted across the expanse of grass, “Uh… having a seizure?”

Will and Gwen both sniggered, and the sound was almost, but not quite enough to drown out the sudden and completely unexpected snort of laughter from Arthur.

Arthur stopped and looked vaguely horrified. Merlin stared at him, looking rather shocked. Gwen just said “oh god,” before she twisted the volume on the ipod up another five notches.

“I’d better…” Arthur trailed off, a bit uncertainly. He looked back at the pitch – where, Miss Slater noticed, Liam was now looking rather angry at being the apparent butt of someone’s joke and had re-directed his ire from Arthur to Merlin – before glancing back at Merlin. “Right, well…” he said, then stopped again. Merlin suddenly became very interested in his sketchbook once more and after another moment Arthur seemed to come back to himself, managing a brief nod at Miss Slater before he turned away and began jogging back to the stalled game.

As Miss Slater watched, he reached the pitch and with a word of apology tossed the ball towards the nearest player – Leon – and the boys began spreading out into position once more. All except Liam, who stalked towards Arthur and jabbed him in the chest, gesturing angrily to where Merlin was sitting and making as if to walk towards them. Arthur stopped him with a hand, shaking his head and saying something in reply. Liam scoffed and went to pass him again, until Arthur pushed him back a little more forcefully, his expression a little more determined, and Liam stopped, his gaze flickering over to the small group by the tree and seeming for the first time to notice Miss Slater. He nodded, as if understanding and even clapped Arthur on the shoulder before he ran off.

Arthur didn’t smile, standing at the edge of the pitch and looking after him for a long moment – until one of the other boys shouted to him and he let himself be drawn back into the game.

The End (for now)


End file.
